


Of a Cursed Island She Was Queen

by QuillerQueen



Series: Greek Mythology AUs [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, F/M, Greek Mythology AU, Regina as Circe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 22:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20804111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillerQueen/pseuds/QuillerQueen
Summary: Regina as Circe, inspired by an enchanting manip by @darthraydor and by Sean’s appearance on The Magicians  (and maybe, possibly, by my obsession with Greek mythology).





	Of a Cursed Island She Was Queen

_ _

_ Inspired by [this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DBDu-7oUwAATJUn.jpg) enchanting manip by @[darthraydor](https://twitter.com/darthraydor).  _

* * *

Aeaea doesn’t attract much attention anymore.

Far-flung and sea-soaked, it floats amidst Poseidon’s realm. Lashed by wild winds and hemmed with stone shores, it withstands each storm in stoic silence. Under turbulent skies it rises verdant from wine-dark waters.

Exile is meant to be a lonely state, yet for Regina it hasn’t always been so.

Once her island used to host heroes. Heroes stranded on its shores, their ships shattered against sharp cliffs. Heroes overstaying their welcome, fallen hostage to drink and idleness—comforts custom would have her provide to each and every guest—leaving their ships to turn to bones and dust under the blazing discus of Helios.

Some heroes they were. They’d flatter her, profess their passion for her, and when rejected they’d take their sweet revenge on her. They’d threaten her, plot to strip away her powers, conspire to take the home and the crown once forced upon her by the gods and hesitantly embraced. In the end, they’d try to take her life.

It was then that Regina realised her life was still worth something to her. So she clung to it. She clung to that miserable existence she also resented, and fought for it tooth and nail.

The gods had given her the gift of witchcraft and taken away her freedom. Against the gods she was powerless, but never again would she bend to the vices of mortals. No, not ever would she let men hurt her with treacherous words or lecherous hands.

The curse took years to concoct and most all her lifeblood to cast. As a dark, rolling cloud it descended upon the island of Aeaea, infusing every grain of sand, every stalk of grass, every drop of dew with ancient, potent magic. Every breath of air for a lifetime to come would carry enough of its substance to reveal anyone’s, be it man or god, true essence.

Now her host of heroes is no more—under Regina’s triumphant gaze, they’ve each become the beast they truly had been in their hearts.

Those who’d drown in her wine and choke on her cheese, those who’d plunder her golden ewers and silver bowls—they’d roll, squealing, in mud and their own excrement. Those who’d slobber over her to then call her a whore either because she took them to bed or because she refused to—they’d prowl her palace grounds with their tails between their legs, yapping and snapping at each other by day and howling at silver Artemis by night. Those who’d raise a hand against her, those who’d leave bruises upon her skin and her soul, those seeking to seize what’s hers through vicious violence—they’d have to bear their fate as those mangy beasts who only find peace in hibernation.

So for years they suffered.

Time has transformed them. Tame and docile they wander now, eating from her hand when she so chooses, wagging their tails upon her sight. Some have learned to be gentle, though she dare not trust it.

Regina hasn’t forgiven them, and perhaps she never will. She wonders sometimes, though. If perhaps, now reformed, they should be restored to human form and allowed to leave, to find a new life away from her prison.

It is futile to wonder—her curse is fail-proof and irreversible.

* * *

Aeaea doesn’t attract much attention anymore, forgotten by sailors and remembered only as a place from myth and legend.

That is why, when a ship emerges on the horizon one rosy morning, Regina suspects Hermes of some new mischief. When its course remains true and indubitable, when it grows before her sight to reveal a black lion against green sails, she grips her staff white-knuckled and weak-kneed. When the ship drops anchor in the island’s only safe harbour without hesitation, she knows it’s by no mere stroke of luck.

They’re coming for her.

Whatever their purpose, it can’t be pure—never has been. Whatever they want, they’re going to get their due. Her menagerie is about to grow—the only question remains what vice will transform them, what shape it’ll lend them.

Noon comes and goes before a sole figure emerges from the forest.

One man, then. They can be dangerous enough on their own after all. Even if this one’s bow and arrows remain slung over his shoulders.

Regina awaits him, wordless, standing tall against the backdrop of her palace. Any moment now, his metamorphosis is about to begin. Any moment now, he’s going to turn…

Except he doesn’t. Instead he passes right by her lounging beasts and into the courtyard. Still human, somehow.

No man’s walked through her gates unchanged.

He smiles at her, with deep dimples and clear-skied eyes, and—though not for fear—she trembles.

Something breaks; something begins to mend.


End file.
